


FindMeInPops' 12 Days of Ficmas: Days Six and Eight - A Cynic's Christmas

by Find Me In Pops (writemeourlovestory)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writemeourlovestory/pseuds/Find%20Me%20In%20Pops
Summary: Sweet Pea hates Christmas simply because he has never had a good one (and is also a bit of a cynic). So, instead of going back home for the festive period, Y/N decides to stay at her and Sweet Pea's shared apartment and give him the best Christmas experience ever.
Relationships: Sweet Pea (Riverdale) & Reader, Sweet Pea (Riverdale)/Reader
Kudos: 5
Collections: FindMeInPops’ 12 Days of Ficmas 2019, Home for the HoliDale





	1. FindMeInPops' 12 Days of Ficmas: Day Six - A Cynic's Christmas (Part One)

**Prompts:**

No. 40 - “Wait, you’re not going home for Christmas?”

No. 13 - Person A hates Christmas because they’ve never had a good one. So Person B goes all out to make this the best Christmas for them.

 **Ship(s):** totally platonic Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

 **Rating:** T (for swearing, please correct me if I’m wrong)

 **CW(s):** cynicism, making light of deceased family, alcohol, swearing

 **Reindeer Games:** Blitzen - Holidays

* * *

Y/N sighed, flopping back onto her bed, hands spread wide over her head in despair.Her mother had asked, no, demanded that she come ‘home’ for Christmas like she had done every year for the three years she had been at university. And, like every year, Y/N truly did not want to go but did not have a worthy excuse to give her mother for why she had to stay in the apartment she and Sweet Pea rented near her university campus.

“Just don’t go.” Sweet Pea told her, sat on top of her desk despite there being a perfectly good chair not even one metre away. “You don’t want to go, you never want to go, but you force yourself to go for no other reason than to torture yourself. Just don’t go.” He shrugged, switching his phone off and instead choosing to watch Y/N argue with herself for the tenth time that day, just this time she was surrounded by piles of clothes.

“My mother forces me.” She corrected before releasing another over-dramatic sigh, if only it were as simple as Sweet Pea made it seem.

“Your mother doesn’t force you, she’s not even in the country. What’s she going to do? Fly over here and drag you back to California by your ear?”

“Please, my mother coming to England?” Y/N sat up, knocking a pile of dresses onto the floor. “She would not risk the weather, especially not in December.” She dramatically emphasised ‘December’ - a winter in England was considered the devil by Y/N’s mother. God forbid the temperature gets below ten degrees.

“She’s English.” He stated with his signature emotionless tone and expression.

It had taken a month after he moved in for Y/N to get Sweet Pea to show anything that nearly resembled a smile. Now he did not hold back his emotions much when he was just around her, when they were in public was a different matter, but Y/N learned that emotionless was just his default expression. Just like her default expression was a friendly, approachable smile.

“She is but she took one step into California and never looked back.” Y/N stood up, beginning to pace through the center of the room. “Literally, she had all of her stuff shipped over before the end of the first week.”

“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“The floor’s wooden.” Y/N stopped in front of him, an eyebrow raised.

“It got you to stand still didn’t it?” He jibed, raising an eyebrow back.

“Oh shut up.” She began to pace again, her hands clasped and her fingers worrying one another.

“Would you please stop?” Exasperation began to leak into his tone with maybe just a hint of genuine concern.

“I do not want to go. I hate her. I love her but I _hate_ her. I do not want to spend Christmas with her. Y’know,” she stopped again, hands still clasped, “she will expect me to move there by the end of the two weeks. She will be surprised if she does not find my boxes at her front door by the second of January, taking into account holiday shipping delays of course. Y’know...” and she began to pace again.

Having enough of her meltdown, Sweet Pea pushed himself off of the desk, striding over to Y/N and grasping her by the tops of her arms.

“For the love of God, stay fucking still!” He exclaimed, releasing her arms but fixing her with a pointed glare. “I’ve told you so many times, just stay here. We can just get pissed and watch telly.”

“Wait, you’re not going home for Christmas?”

“All my family are dead.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Sweet Pea always went for shock value, loving to watch the way people squirmed when he emotionlessly announced that his entire family was dead without warning, and it worked for the first three times with Y/N - she wasn’t a sociopath after all. But after two and a half years of living in close proximity with Sweet Pea, she was now completely desensitised to his antics.

“I know that but what about your friends? Or just having Christmas in your hometown?”

“My friends all hate me and my hometown is a dump.” He countered, taking a few steps back before lifting himself onto the desk again - she had given up on reprimanding him for it a while ago.

“Well I know that’s not true,” she paused, “the first bit anyway - goddamn Riverdale is falling apart.” Y/N had visited with him once and, after seeing the photos of how the town used to look, was horrified at how it had been left to run itself into the ground. The local diner was the most heartbreaking, now empty and ripped apart. The trailer park on the outskirts, where Sweet Pea had lived, was one of the only parts still standing, the gang he was born into going strong but simply did not have the funds to rebuild the town to its former glory. Unbeknownst to Sweet Pea, Y/N had every intention of donating a hefty sum of money in a few months when her trust fund finally came through.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’m happy to stay here. Christmas is an awful time where companies milk the world dry, the rich thrive, the poor are miserable and everybody pretends to enjoy themselves whilst Uncle Sam gets completely drunk and vomits all over the Christmas turkey.”

“Well,” Y/N started, used to Sweet Pea’s eternal cynicism, “the rich do that all the time, not just at Christmas, we can try our best to save the world but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and you shouldn’t let that stop you from having an awesome Christmas.” Then she gave him a pointed look. “Plus, you don’t have an Uncle Sam because, as you love to remind everyone, he’s dead.”

‘Touche’ was all that Sweet Pea offered in return, allowing his legs to swing slightly over the edge of the desk.

“So what are you actually doing for Christmas?” Y/N persisted. “Are any of your friends staying back? Can you celebrate with them?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

“You have me.”

“And you’re going back to England.”

Y/N sighed. When Sweet Pea was in one of these moods, getting answers was like trying to get blood from a stone, and he was usually determined to force her into his negative view of the world. Most of the time he would be somewhat of a pessimist, particularly in front of strangers but, as with the expressionless facade, the constant pessimism and cynicism faded somewhat as the pair established a friendship. However, when he was in one of these moods, he would argue black was white and that the world was evil and everyone should die, just to watch you get frustrated.

“Are you seriously not doing anything for Christmas? I can stay, if you want?” She offered.

“If you really don’t want to go, then don’t go, she can’t force you, but don't stay for me. Christmas sucks, it has always sucked and it always will, there’s nothing that can be done about it.” He stated matter-of-factly, shrugging again.

“You hate Christmas?” Y/N asked dumbfounded. She guessed she should have known this already, what with his shitty childhood, she could understand the reasoning but to hear him actually say it seemed to shock her. She herself was an avid Christmas fan, to be best friends with an anti-Christmasser was a bizarre concept.

On the first of December, Y/N had gone to the local Christmas tree farm and bought a six-foot tree to sit in the apartment entranceway. She knew she wasn’t going to spend Christmas in the country but she needed her home to have some element of festiveness, even if she would not be here on the actual day to appreciate it. Sweet Pea had persuaded her not to decorate the entire house as ‘what’s the point in spending so much on decorations when you won’t fucking be here’.

What he had not yet grasped though, is Y/N had too much money; she was one of the lucky ones, or unlucky, depending on how you see it. She came from a long-line of rich, white, upper-classmen and so when her mother gave her a £2500 weekly allowance, on top of paying for necessities and the upkeep of their apartment, she would not struggle to afford to deck out the whole place as she wanted. Half of the allowance already went to local charities but anymore than that and her mother began to ask questions. Her mother looked down on the poor, or anyone who could not afford to have a solid gold toilet; she was a horrible person with no empathy and it was for that reason that Y/N did not want to spend her festive period at her estate in California.

“Yes, I hate Christmas.” He stated. “For all of the reasons I just told you.”

“I’m staying.” She decided.

“Okay.”

“I’m staying and you are going to have the best Christmas ever.” She crossed her arms defiantly whilst her mind was already organising a list of everything she needed to do and get to make this the greatest experience for Sweet Pea. It was the afternoon of the twenty-third, but with her expertise, she was fairly certain she could get it done.

“No, Y/N, plea-” Sweet Pea tried to protest but was already half-defeated.

Anyone who knew Y/N knew that she was a force to be reckoned with once she had her mind set. It would take gale force winds or perhaps the apocalypse to stop her.

The idea was kind of sweet, Sweet Pea supposed, but involved far too much time and money being spent for only his benefit. Plus, he knew how her mother was and she would more than disapprove of her daughter spending so much for no true reason.

“Sorry, I can’t seem to hear you.” Y/N exclaimed as she ran from the room to where her handbag sat on a table beside the tree in the hallway.

“Y/N!” He called, following swiftly after her.

“Still can’t quite hear you!” She cried, pulling open the front door before stopping and turning to shout back to Sweet Pea. “I’m heading out for a while, don’t wait up!” And with that, she was out the door, shutting it with a slam, leaving a very confused Sweet Pea in her wake.


	2. FindMeInPops' 12 Days of Ficmas: Day Eight - A Cynic's Christmas (Part Two)

**Ship(s):** totally platonic Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

 **Rating:** K+

 **CW(s):** homelessness

 **Reindeer Games:** Comet - Traditions

* * *

Six hours. Six fucking hours, that was how long Y/N was out shopping. Sweet Pea was in bed when he had heard her close the front door. He had crawled from his bed and stuck his head out of his bedroom just in time to see five members of the apartment block staff, plus Y/N, all carrying armfuls of shopping bags through the hallway and into the living room. He was far too sleepy to venture out and ask what she was doing so simply sighed and wandered back to bed. It was probably selfish of him but he had been up early that day to do a shift at the part-time job he had. Y/N insisted he did not need it but he wanted to give some kind of contribution to rent / groceries etc., even if it was so small when compared to Y/N’s contributions.

The next morning, Sweet Pea was woken from a dreamless sleep by Y/N prodding him quite harshly in the arm.

“What…” He grumbled, feeling both groggy and very confused.

“You need to get up, we have stuff to do.” She poked him again. Her voice was far too cheery for the morning and, by the slightly damp hair and coffee in hand, she had been up for a while already.

“I- what? What time is it?”

“It’s 2pm.” Y/N’s tone was akin to that of a chastising mother, as she perched on the edge of the bed. “How did I not know you slept in this late, it’s not healthy.” Sure, they lived in the same apartment but they did not study the same subject, Sweet Pea had a job, and he generally spent most of the time when he was at the apartment in his room. Y/N had no reason to know about Sweet Pea’s sleeping habits but she thought that she would have noticed that they woke up five hours apart.

“What’s not healthy is not getting enough sleep so I would rather sleep until 2pm than be tired all day.” Y/N had to stop herself remarking at ‘all day’ considering he was only awake for the afternoon.

“I guess… We’re going off topic, you need to be up and dressed in twenty minutes, we have stuff to do.” Swiftly standing from the bed, she shoved the mug of coffee into Sweet Pea’s hands before spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.

***

Eighteen minutes later and he was showered and dressed, fighting a yawn as he left his bedroom but he froze in his step. To say he was shocked at the state of the apartment would be the understatement of the century.

Every spare inch and surface was decorated with lights and Christmas ornaments. He had not even seen further than the hallway but he already got the impression that Christmas threw up all over the apartment.

Green garlands adorned the walls, each wrapped with strands of warm-white fairylights, giving the hallway an pleasant glow. The ornaments that had sat on a large dresser tucked in the corner of the hall had been removed and replaced with a small three-foot, fibre-optic Christmas tree; the tips glowed white and were decorated by small red and silver shiny baubles hanging from each branch.

Tentatively, he crept round the corner into the kitchen, not surprised to find that this room had been decorated just as - if not more - liberally as the previous. In addition to the ornaments and lights, neat piles of items, ranging from flour and sugar to more decorations to shopping bags filled with tins and boxes of food. Y/N obviously had a plan and Sweet Pea was terrified of what she was dragging him into.

For the large majority of the time, Sweet Pea did not struggle to say no to people but the exception was always Y/N. She either did not give him a choice or argued and complained until he said yes, her vocal sparring rivalled Sweet Pea’s, or sometimes she just resorted to pouting and saying ‘please’ in the sweetest, butter wouldn’t melt tone that she could muster. However she did it, though, Sweet Pea always struggled to say ‘no’ to his best friend and, knowing that she was doing all of this for his benefit, assured him that there was no way that he would be able to refuse. He would complain, he would argue, but he would not say ‘no’.

“Good, you’re up.” Y/N clapped her hands as she hurried into the kitchen. She inspected the table’s contents for a few seconds before nodding, presumably finding everything she wanted there, and then motioning for Sweet Pea to follow her back into the living room.

“Now, I did the rest of the decorations,” how, Sweet Pea did not know, she had got back at half eleven last night, and this amount of work must have taken hours even if she did have some help, “but, because this is your first Christmas, you must decorate a Christmas tree.”

Sweet Pea did not particularly want to decorate a Christmas tree but Y/N just gave him a look and he quickly obliged.

Y/N pulled a box, filled with brand new fairylights, baubles, and tinsel, along with a seven foot faux Christmas tree, into the centre of the room, before they began to assemble it. If he was completely honest, Sweet Pea found the whole process incredibly therapeutic and maybe enjoyed it too, especially when Y/N began to play Christmas music through her phone, singing quietly along whilst doing awkward but nevertheless adorable bottom-wiggle dancing - kind of like dad dancing but for a twenty one year-old girl.

After the pair had finished haphazardly assembling and decorating the tree, Y/N took a picture. Sweet Pea appreciated Y/N resisting the need to redo all of it, he had managed to make even pre-chosen, colour coordinated decorations look higgledy-piggledy. She seemed to be on a tight schedule though as she hurried him into the kitchen before scooping up the pile of ingredients and laying them out on the worktop.

“Next,” announced as she washed her hands, “we are going to make some gingerbread biscuits.”

“I’ve had gingerbread biscuits before.”

“Sure, but have you ever made gingerbread biscuits and made the entire house smell like a delicious Christmas bakery?” She took Sweet Pea’s silence as his answer. “Exactly. Can you follow a recipe? I need to go and do something in the other room.”

After getting confirmation that he could indeed read and follow written instruction, she scuttled back out of the room, having grabbed a large shopping bag filled with what, Sweet Pea did not know, but it looked heavy.

As always, Y/N had been right. The gingerbread baking in the oven had smelled heavenly and he had no qualms in telling her so. Sweet Pea had accepted a short time into their friendship that Y/N normally knew better when it came to practical things…or most things really.

He guessed that was one of the many benefits of growing up in a wealthy family, no doors were truly closed - money could buy most things and no-one denied the rich an opportunity. She had traveled, she had appreciated many cultures and learnt many things both practical and academic. But that did not mean that he was unable to teach her anything. When they met, Y/N had just moved back to London, without her mother this time, and had a child-like naivety about the world - something that Sweet Pea was lacking to the extreme. Hearing his story had kickstarted the whole process and she had been slowly losing her rose-tinted glasses over the last three years.

Her and Sweet Pea evened each other out in that respect. Y/N had been overwhelmingly naive and Sweet Pea had been overwhelmingly cynical; neither of them had lost that part of them entirely but Sweet Pea had been learning that there were good people in the world and Y/N had been learning that there were bad people as well as coming to the realisation that not everyone had it as easy as she did - this was when she began to donate such a large percentage of her allowance to local charities.

“Sweet Pea!” Y/N not-so-gently shocked him from his reverie. “Stop daydreaming and box up those biscuits, we’re going out.”

As they had packed up the car, Y/N had refused to tell Sweet Pea where they were going but the large number of food and toys in the bags they moved into the boot gave him a clue. His suspicions were confirmed when they pulled outside a nearby homeless shelter.

Sweet Pea was very happy that Y/N had included this in her Christmas Eve plans. The homeless, or nomads as Y/N liked to call them, had an especially tough time during the festive period and the fact that they were able to help them out just a little, maybe bring a bit of joy into their day, was incredibly important to him. One of the many charities that Y/N made regular donations to was the London Homeless and the pair spent many an afternoon volunteering at the local soup kitchen.

“Y/N! Sweet Pea! How great to see you!” Jane, the main organiser for this particular shelter, greeted them each by name, embracing them. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She helped the pair carry in the bags, a couple of the other volunteers taking the food into the kitchen to be distributed as necessary. Y/N handed Sweet Pea a specific bag, instructing him to take it over to a rickety table in the back corner of the hall. When he opened it, the bag was filled with small red and green stockings, colour coded for either adults or children; within them were hygiene supplies but also a few sweet treats, and toys for the children.

Sweet Pea and Y/N spent several hours there; the shelter had been setting up for the annual nomads’ Christmas dinner, prepared and cooked by a couple of volunteer chefs from local area. The pair joined the staff and the nomads, they all sat down together, they pulled crackers, joked, laughed, and chatted, enjoying the food and company.

Once they had gotten home, they drank Bailey’s and watched The Muppets’ Christmas Carol - of course Y/N had thoroughly enjoyed comparing Sweet Pea to Scrooge - before leaving a brandy and mince pie out for ‘Father Christmas’. They then immediately drank and ate both. And in the morning, Sweet Pea had woken to a filled stocking hanging on the end of the bed.

Y/N had taken the time to plan a few days where she included both the more traditional traditions as well as the more unique ones. Y/N was good for Sweet Pea and Sweet Pea was good for Y/N. They had the best Christmas ever with the person they loved most in the world.


End file.
